


Énoument

by obsessivelyintrigued



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Memories, Interrogation, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, that interrogation scene turned feelsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6701065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivelyintrigued/pseuds/obsessivelyintrigued
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe Dameron doesn't regret the day he chose Ben Solo to hold his heart; free to do what he wants with it. Cherish it, or break it.</p><p>He doesn't. Never did, never will.</p><p>But the pain of being reminded - is all too real, and too much. Even for him.</p><blockquote>
  <p>prompt response to: "Hey, I'm with you, okay? Always."</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Énoument

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Midgardian_Nerd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midgardian_Nerd/gifts).



> based on this prompt:
>
>> [@midgardiannerd](https://tmblr.co/mrcE6SWlDeEzRuMCi60aTVw) : Hey! Something to cheer you up, I hope! For the prompt thing: 14.“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.” for Darkpilot. 

Poe never felt alone more than he did now, at the hands of the First Order, tied up in their interrogation chamber.

He chose to doze off a bit, hoping that the intel of his mission got away. Refusing to think of that. He wants to revitalize even a bit, fully knowing the fact that what he just experienced in the hands of those stormtroopers is just the beginning. Something big and even more dangerous is on its way to rain down upon him.

Sighing, Poe lowers his head to his chin, eyes closed. He hears the door open with a resounding hiss, boots loudly clanking on the cold floor but refuses to acknowledge any of those.

A few moments, silent. Poe almost think he imagined all those if not for the certain feeling of someone before him, watching him.

 _Breathe,_ he tells himself. _Just keep breathing._

“I didn’t know we had the best pilot in the Resistance onboard.” The mechanical voice grating his ears, making Poe clench his jaw.

“You comfortable?”

Slowly, he raises his head. Eyes opening in a half-lidded gaze. “Not really.” he drawls, assessing the man clad in black before him, mask glinting with the low light of the room.

“I’m impressed.” A hint of small interest, probably feigned. “No one has been able to get out of you. What you did with the map.”

If he’s not tied up, Poe is sure he’s already had his back straight with the praise, but his head low in a sign of humility. Instead he spat out, “You might want to rethink your technique.”

The man - Kylo Ren raises his hand and Poe steels himself at the onslaught he knows will flood his mind.

A slight nudge, familiar. He remembers from before, _“Build walls, Poe. With the most powerful memories you have.”_ Poe takes a deep breath, remembering that one fateful day on Yavin IV - the first time he saw the Millennium Falcon gracefully land on the grasses of the forest moon.

Then a more insistent one, a sudden prodding. Poe thought of the boy. The boy with adorably big ears and nose. The boy whose eyes are always so expressive, Poe found himself marvelling at the way it swims with emotions. The boy who, he found out, rarely smiles - leading him to cherish the few moments he does, and kept him wishing for more.

A direct assault, tearing his walls down. Poe pants much needed breaths. The same boy, now taller. Taller than him with his hair falling freely down to his shoulders, a braid on the side to keep the hair from his face. Poe remembers tracing it with his fingers, playing with the braid as the boy sits beside him, avidly listening to his stories.

The walls all fall down. Poe grits his teeth. He remembers the first day he holds the control of a ship, flying with the guide of his mother as he sit on her lap. The adrenaline rush, feeling of freedom flowing through his veins. Then the grief, the grief when his mother has gone. Gone forever, didn’t even see him fly his own ship.

The walls was easily broken then. Poe hears it, _“You’re amazing, Poe. You’ll be the best pilot in the galaxy. I just know.”_ hears that voice again he thought he forgot. He made himself forgot through the pain. He feels himself reel from the memory, can’t even bear to remember it himself. He failed, he failed and he knows.

A new one, he remembers. This time the boy is crying, tears falling freely to his pale, angelic features. Poe feels the lingering sensation of his fingers touching that face, comforting. _“I don’t want to go.”_ The mantra repeating over and over, his young self at a lost to what to say.

What, what do you tell a boy - a boy you have come to love that it’s okay to go. Even when you know its not. Even when it hurts you. When it hurts him. How, how do you tell a boy you love him before he leaves? How?

Jaw set tight, determined. Deep, slow breaths. Eyes telling what the mouth cannot. Poe remembers then, how he laid a careful kiss on the boy’s forehead, fingers tracing the braid just to not forget how it feels. _“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”_

You promise. That’s what you do, you promise the boy to have his back. Hope it’ll someday, somehow, translate to the three words you feared to utter. You promise to always be there for him, you promise with all your heart carved out of your chest and held out to him. Free for him to do what he wants.

Poe remembers, as he throws his head back in pain on the metal slab he’s tied to. What the boy did to it, to him, to his heart. He doesn’t regret it. Never did, never will be.

He chose someone to break his heart. And he knows its worth it. All the pain, the longing, the resentment you feel to your own self for not being enough.

All the walls fell, Poe glares at the masked man before him - ignorant of one single fact - he says through gritted teeth. “The Resistance will not be intimidated by you.”

Then its gone, a memory, information plucked out like a feather from his mind. Lost in pain, not just physically and mentally. But mostly emotional pain for reliving those. For rewinding the life he cherished. The life he was still hoping he could live with that boy by his side as they grow old together.

The pain of being reminded that he’s not enough. That Poe Dameron, best pilot in the galaxy, failed the person he had loved the most.

No, that’s wrong. The person he love the most. Present tense.

He feels fingertips on his forehead, trailing down to the slope of his nose, to his lips.

_“I wish I could hate you. But I can’t._

He hears something, a hiss and a loud clanking of metal against metal. A ghost of another touch before he slip to the dark abyss of dreamless, restless sleep.

_“I’m sorry; I loved you too much.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing this one. It practically wrote itself. And yes, loved. Past tense. Because it’s angst, and angst is beautiful. Sue me.
> 
> send me [prompts!](http://obsessivelyintrigued.tumblr.com/ask)


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